Expert Testimony 1
by Mallaithe
Summary: The team returns to Seattle to assist in a series of murders involving decapitation. Gideon calls in an old acquaintance for assistance. Cleaned up and edited Feb '11
1. Expertise

"Ben?"

"Who is this?"

"Gideon."

"Jason? Why are you calling –"

"Need your help."

Long awkward pause filled with tense breathing.

"Why me?"

"You're the best."

"Jason-"

"Seattle."

The soft silence of a dead line.

Methos stared at his cell phone. Lips pressed into a thin line. Jason Gideon, a ghost from the past. Methos wanted to run, to hide, Gideon had X-ray eyes, in their short acquaintance the soft spoken agent had seen through enough of Methos' alter ego to know something of the man beneath. Too much for comfort.

Still, he had asked for help and Gideon wouldn't do that lightly. So, if Methos didn't go Gideon and his team would most likely eventually find their prey, but what about the people who would die in the meantime?

He licked his suddenly dry lips and slipped the phone into his coat pocket. He could be in Seattle in under two hours. He had a debt to pay and Gideon was right, he could hunt the monsters at least as well as Gideon, after all he'd been one once.

He set his shoulders decision made.

* * *

Seattle reminded him of Elle. One of his failures. They were profilers, they should have anticipated her change of heart after her ordeal, forseen the possibilities. Known she was a threat to the unsub. He hadn't and they'd lost her, for good. One way or another.

It wasn't raining for once. He tucked his coat close anyway, the high humidity and cool temperature combined to cut through his undershirt, dress shirt and heavy coat. No wonder the locals tended toward layers.

He followed his team into the headquarters building trying not to see Elle's shade in the crowd of eager agents waiting for them. Hotchner and J.J. took care of introductions and the team sat down for their initial brief and question and answer period. They had all read the file, nonetheless the verbal brief was necessary.

"I'm S.S.A. Alex Mayer." Her voice was short and sharp, not breath or syllables wasted.

"We have seven bodies over seven months, we have very little to go on. No useful latent forensics have been found at any of the crime scenes, which suggests the victims are killed elsewhere and then dumped."

"How did this enter our jurisdiction?" Reid asked immediately.

"Body disposal, the unsub decapitates his victims, the third victim's head was left across state lines, in Northern Oregon. Just as well, he jumped so many jurisdictions that the bureaucratic mess was going to land in our laps sooner or later." Mayer said calmly.

"It's likely that was intentional." Hotch said evenly.

"The autopsy reports indicated the unsub uses an extremely sharp instrument with a long edge, anything more specific?" Morgan asked.

"Not especially, best guess is a sword, each decapitation has been surgically precise."

"So he can decapitate an adult with a sword with extreme precision?" Reid asked intrigued. The rest of the team eyed him. Gideon watched expressionlessly.

"It's extremely difficult to cleanly decapitate a human being, the spinal column is a lot tougher than it seems. Often during executions the executioner would have to strike twice." Reid explained.

"But a sword is a more precise instrument, nobility were often given the choice of death by a sword rather than the traditional axe." Gideon pointed out.

"Whatever the case this guy is ninja good with a sword." Mayer continued.

"Are there any defensive wounds?" Emiliy asked bringing the briefing back on topic. The report had listed the victim's blood at two crime scenes but there was no mention of any injuries aside from the fatal decapitation.

"No, and that's another strange aspect, none of the victims had any other injuries or even scars aside from the fatal injury but in two cases we found portions of clothing cut and stained with the victim's blood as though they _had _been injured."

"Vicitmology?" J.J. asked. Often it was this portion of the initial review that determined whether or not a press conference was needed and what, if any, information would be released.

"It seems quite random. One victim was African American, two were female, one was Latino and they range in age from early twenties to mid-fifties."

Gideon was studying the crime scene and autopsy photos in his file.

"They all appear to be extremely fit." Gideon said.

"Yes, we've been running photos to area gyms and athletic clubs but it's a big city. So far we haven't turned up anything."

Gideon's phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and immediately answered it excusing himself from the rest of the briefing. The team exchanged glances, easily missed by an outsider but as good as a scream to the tight knit profilers. Gideon would never – had never left a briefing like that before. He might've missed it entirely and sent Hotch first but he wouldn't interrupt one like that.

* * *

"You're coming?" Gideon asked holding his phone close as though nervous about being overheard.

"I'm in town. Where do you want me?" Methos asked quietly, his voice sounded thin.

Gideon gave him the address to the FBI building.

"I'll be there in ten minutes." Methos said tightly.

"Ben, thank you." Gideon said genuinely. Methos hung up.

* * *

His palms were sweaty, hands shaking, heart racing. This was suicidally stupid. He'd had contact with Gideon twice a week, for a total of two and a half months. In that brief acquaintance Gideon had guessed or surmised more about Methos than most of the people he'd known for decades.

Still, innocent lives were at stake.

He left the coffee shop and started walking. He'd known where the FBI office was located. Had simply wanted an excuse to stall the inevitable. In moments he was staring up at the stern facade of the FBI building. It started to rain, harder than usual, rain drops bouncing off the sidewalk, gutters and drains quickly filling. Some people produced hoods or umbrellas, most just kept walking, no one ran in a vague attempt to avoid the inevitable wetting. One of the few cities where Methos had ever seen that.

He shook the thought away and walked toward the entrance. Gideon was standing in the foyer, ready to wave him through security. Methos hadn't brought his sword. There wasn't any point and it would be extremely awkward to explain. Still, he felt naked without it.

He nodded at Gideon. The man had aged in the ten or so years since they'd met. Methos vaguely wished he'd been able to hid his lack of age but any use of makeup or his usual tricks would be a red flag. He'd gained a small amount of weight but mostly it was his eyes that had changed. They were heavy with knowledge.

"Ben, thank you for coming."

"I came as fast as I could. Why me Jason?" Methos asked softly. He was staring around at the bustling lobby nervously.

"You're an expert in swords and hand to hand combat, and I trust you."

"I thought you were with the B.A.U?" Methos would have assumed they would have in-house experts.

"I am, we have a special case." Gideon said leading the way to an elevator. Methos felt his stomach sink. He knew the B.A.U generally hunted serial killers, kidnappers, mass poisoners and so on. The only reason he could think of that Gideon would have contacted him is if they were investigating a series of sword related murders. If Gideon had just mentioned Methos' expertise with hand-to-hand combat then maybe…but no, the mention of swords…

"We have seven victims, all decapitated the severed neck was cauterized, each was moved from the kill site and dumped."

"Decapitated?" Methos asked numbly.

"Yes, apparently with a sword by an extremely skilled swordsman."

"Or woman?" Methos suggested.

"Possible but doubtful, each victim was an adult, each was extremely fit and would be hard for a small man or woman to dispose of alone."

Methos was nodding along.

"Where do I come in?" He asked carefully.

"I need to know what kind of person would have this kind of skill. There can't be too many people with them in this day and age."

"You want a list?" Methos asked arching an eyebrow. If that was all Gideon needed Methos could have emailed it easily. A sudden cold thought rang through the immortal's head. Methos was reasonably local, he was known to be an excellent swordsman by Gideon, and Gideon knew there was something dangerous to Methos. He swallowed.

"You know my name will have to be on there." He pointed out. Gideon's deep eyes met Methos' and a long moment passed.

"I'm local, I have the skill set you're looking for and I'm probably capable of dumping those bodies alone."

"I know." Gideon said simply.


	2. Double Dealing

Jail, Methos found, really hadn't improved too much over the years.

He sighed and pushed his picked at tray of food aside. He was, at least, in his own cell. Gideon had apologized profusely. Evidently something had gone wrong with Gideon's plan, whatever it had been, and instead of the local agents using Methos as a font of information they had latched onto him as the unsub.

Methos shifted on his cot; the orange jump suit they'd issued him didn't fit right. He could hear Gideon's raised voice somewhere beyond his line of sight. Probably in the booking area. Methos had an airtight alibi. He'd been in Majorca during the majority of the murders, unfortunately he'd been there under an assumed name. The last thing he needed was the F.B.I. digging into his many many aliases. So he'd called Macleod and hoped for the best. If worst came to worst he could suicide and hide for a decade or two.

The door to the holding cell area opened, Macleod and Gideon entered. Methos stood up from his cot and stretched cat-like, waited patiently by the door to his cell. The door opened and two angry faces greeted him.

"My apologies Ben. Mr Macleod here has supplied an alibi for the last three murders." Gideon said stiffly.

"Why didn't you just tell them you were staying with me in Paris?" Macleod growled. Methos looked annoyed. He really wanted to bear hug the Scot and buy him a bagful of whiskey but it was vital his facade not crack.

"They weren't exactly in the listening mood." He growled. Macleod pulled him into a hug that lasted just long enough to be firmly ambiguous. The two could have been lovers, old friends, or anything in between. Methos was amused by the gesture. Macleod might act like a meathead at times but he was quite bright when it mattered.

"If you gentleman could come with me I'd like to speak with you." Gideon said neutrally. Methos flashed real anger. Macleod's hand on his arm warned him to be nice. Methos looked down at Macleod's restraining hand for a moment and then shook it off.

"Can I change first?" He asked sourly. Gideon paused in front of a closed door.

"By all means. Your things are inside." Gideon said and pushed the door open. Methos' emergency bag was sitting on a wooden chair. It looked like an unused office. Methos relaxed pleased to be facing comfortable clothing, warm clothing, again. Macleod followed him in while Gideon waited outside. The two men spoke quickly and quietly.

"What is going on?"

"One of _us _is hunting and leaving the bodies for the Feds." Methos hissed. He wasn't sure the room wouldn't be bugged.

"Shit. Who would be that stupid?"

"Not stupid, crazy, this is deliberate." Methos growled slipping on a heavy sweatshirt. His coat was missing, probably in evidence somewhere.

"Who?"

"I can think of a few, I need you to get in touch with Joe, see who's around, we have to take this shithead down." Methos said tying his boot laces.

"Wait, how do you know an F.B.I. profiler?" Macleod asked frowning. Methos paused and looked up.

"I took a course from him the last time I was an undergrad. He's…insightful."

"That makes him dangerous." Macleod pointed out.

"It would be worse if I avoided him. Besides, now we know about this renegade-"

"What good does that do us if you out us? Or get killed?"

Methos finished tying his boots and stood straight.

"Talk to Joe Macleod." He said softly and opened the door. Gideon was down the hall, studying a cheap print depicting several birds in a shrub.

Gideon lead them to a comfortable conference room. A wide window had its shades open revealing the various agents at work. One end of the conference room was filled with a whiteboard; Hollywood typical photos and notes were taped and tacked to the board. Methos grunted at it.

"I would again like to apologize for your treatment." Gideon sighed, he seemed genuine.

"Don't Gideon it was logical, hasty but…well I don't blame them, or you." Methos sighed. Macleod remained standing while Methos sat. Methos glanced at Macleod and a faint smile crossed his features. Gideon sat as well.

He asked both men for a list of competent local swordsmen or anyone who could teach another person those kinds of skills. He asked about whether a butcher or someone with similar training could use a sword the way the unsub apparently had. Toward the end Methos spotted the glaring red light of a camera half hidden behind the whiteboard festooned with death. Rage, hot and sour filled him for a brief moment and then he pulled his gaze back to Gideon and focused on the current round of questions.

* * *

"The other man's body language is protective but subservient. Like a- a- bodyguard or maybe a parent." Reid said as the video of Gideon's 'chat' with Methos and Macleod played silently.

"I'm not sure what their relationship is, they could be lovers but Ben seems to resent Macleod at times, almost like –"

"Macleod is younger, lower ranking." Morgan interrupted. Reid nodded.

"Backgrounds?"

"Ben Pierson holds a dual doctorate in anthropology and ancient linguistics. He does a lot of freelance work and traveling. His birth certificate lists Cardiff, Wales in 1982, no parents never married. Duncan Macleod…. Is older, born in Scotland immigrated here twenty or so years ago, was a successful antiquities dealer, in the early 90s his fiancée was murdered, he sold his business and bought a dojo." Morgan recited.

"Sooo are these men viable suspects?" Emily asked. Gideon smiled softly at her, ever impatient.

"Yes but I don't think either is the unsub, they were both in Paris for three of the murders."

"Garcia is verifying their paper trail." J. J. said sitting down.

"Where are we on victimology?" Hotch asked.

"None of the victims had any visible scars or tattoos, each was in extremely good shape, the women in particular had well-built upper bodies suggesting weight training or some similar exercise regimen. So far none of the local gyms have been able to identify any of the victims as members but they're still checking. This is a health conscious town."

"Are they interviewing non standard fitness groups? Yoga, pilates-"

"Dojos?" Reid asked suddenly.

"The extreme fitness, the enhanced upper bodies in the women could be from martial arts training possibly even involving swords." Reid pointed out.

"So our unsub targets people who are also skilled with swords or at least martial arts, he wants a challenge, a hunt." Morgan muttered.

"I don't know, if you train with edged weapons you're going to get scars, if these victims are skilled swordsmen why don't they have any scars?" Emily pointed out.

"J.J. ask agent Mayer to concentrate on dojos, martial arts studios, anywhere a person could conceivably learn to use a sword." Hotch ordered. J. J. nodded and exited. Reid and the rest were still watching the video, it was nearly over.

"There!" Emily snapped. Reid paused the video. Ben was staring directly at the camera, an expression of angry loathing twisting his features.

"He really doesn't like being on camera." Morgan said.

"No, it's not being filmed, he knew he'd be on camera the minute he set foot on F.B.I. grounds, it's the deceit, the assumption that he would fall for it." Gideon said poking his head into the room, he stood with the door partially open.

"Macleod never noticed the camera. Or at least he didn't react to it." Emily added.

"Ben has the power, he seems to be the leader, Macleod is extremely protective of him but subservient, he looks for Ben's lead." Hotch murmured.

"Morgan, find out how much of their story Garcia can confirm, we aren't ruling them out –"

Mayer burst into the room pushing past Gideon and interrupting the older agent.

"We have another victim. Body was found in an underpass just outside Tacoma, on tribal land."

"Reid, you and Prentiss with me, the rest of you work the victimology, Morgan get with Garcia we need to triple check those alibis. J.J. set up a press conference we need to reach out to potential victims and anyone that might know the current victims."

"It's possible the unsub will run out of viable targets, move on, we need to stop him here, now. before he moves on and we lose him." Hotch pointed out.

* * *

"Hey sugar what've you got?" Morgan asked.

Garcia smiled, her pert neon pink lips curving in joy as Morgan's familiar voice filled her small office.

"Ahh my sweet I have a mystery for you."

"Spill baby girl." Morgan laughed.

"Okay, August fifteenth I have one Duncan Macleod home address in Seacouver, WA arriving in Paris. I do not have any arrival information for Ben Pierson, _but_, on August twentieth an _Adam_ Pierson arrived at Charles De Gaulle airport."

"Adam Pierson?"

"Yep, now _Adam_ is fifteen years older than Ben but none of their information lines up, except for this. Both hold PhDs in obscure languages. Adam specialized in ancient Mesopotamian and Ben is an expert in Akkadian and Egyptian."

"Sooo either Ben has a big brother or –"

"Or he's not Ben Pierson."

"Good work Garcia, keep digging."

"Your wish is my command lover."

* * *

"Mac, get out of town, disappear." Methos growled. He was using his cell, he would make one more call on it and then ditch it, and do away with Ben Pierson for good. He'd pushed his luck too far and now Gideon's team was onto him. Several wyrms he'd buried as a backdoor alarm on his various aliases had been set off. He had to assume the B.A.U had someone digging into his background. Whoever it was had a light touch and an instinctive grasp of programming. He or she had dismantled most of his safeguards almost effortlessly, only his alarm wyrm had saved his ass.

"M-"

"Don't argue, we're burned, the B.A.U is chewing through my identities like taffy and you're next."

The phone went dead. Methos sighed and dialed Gideon.

"Yeah?"

"Gideon." Methos said and fell silent. He wasn't sure what to say.

* * *

"Yeah?" Jason asked answering the unknown number.

"Gideon." It was Ben, and he wasn't asking a question. He snapped his fingers at Emily, she rushed to get a trace started.

"Ben?"

"Gideon, I … I wish you hadn't checked up on me."

"Did you kill those people?" Gideon demanded.

"No, I didn't but I can't prove it. I.." Long pause sound of a deep breath.

"Ben, I know you're running from something if you didn't kill these people –"

"I'm going to stop him Gideon. Goodbye."

* * *

Methos pulled the sim card out of the phone, threw the phone in the trash and ground the card under his heel. He was certain they'd still be able to get data off it if they found it so he chucked it into a storm drain.

* * *

"Bring him in, _now_." Gideon ordered. Mayer nodded and picked up a phone.

"What about Macleod?" Morgan asked

"He's more settled here, owns a business, has friends it might take him longer to disappear. Macleod feels protective toward Ben if Ben bolts or tries to kill again Macleod might lead us to him." Reid said.

Gideon nodded.

* * *

The BAU missed both immortals. Methos and Macleod met in a derelict area of the docks after sunset.

Methos was sitting at the end of a pier, legs dangling over the water, naked sword lying on the weathered wood at his side. Macleod's familiar stealthy steps warned him of the other immortal's presence almost as fast as the sense of the other man's quickening. Methos twitched but didn't rise.

"Little trusting." Macleod complained. He didn't sit.

"Did you talk to Joe?" Methos asked.

"The Watchers are going out of their minds over this guy. Nearly started another civil war. He's a local, kept his head down and stayed out of the Game for the most part."

"First death?"

"As far as the Watcher's know a mugging, he was 29."

"When?"

"Six years ago, his teacher gave him no more than the basics and moved on. He's mostly self-taught but he's held his own. Taken a little over a head a year since his first death. "

"Why haven't they sent the cleaners?" Methos asked. The cleaners were an unpleasant necessity when an immortal went rogue and no other immortal stepped up the cleaners would incapacitate and imprison the rogue, taking him or her out of the game and preserving the secret of immortal existence.

"Joe said they were basically disbanded, after the civil war everything was in chaos, no one wanted things to start up again so they were re-assigned. Scattered. It's taking time to bring them back together again."

"He's been killing for half a year."

"The Watchers fuck things up, you know that better than anyone. Give them two choices, one that will damn them and one that won't and they'll damn themselves every time." Macleod growled. Methos nodded.

"Got an address?" Both men knew this kill was too important to screw up. They would violate the rules of the Game because this was not part of the Game this was beyond it. They would work together to bring the madman down.

"Yeah."

"Okay, let's go." Methos sighed.

"Yeah, he's in the city. His name is Russ."

"I don't care about his name." Methos said icily.


	3. Overplayed

The rogue's name was Russell. Methos found his home and waited, allowed his quickening to seek out Russell's. The tingle of the meeting quickenings swept over him and he adjust his grip on his Ivanhoe. The plan was for Methos to flush Russell out and allow Macleod to challenge him. Macleod had insisted on single combat, Methos had agreed but planned to intervene if it appeared that Macleod might be losing at any time. He wasn't going to lose an asset like Macleod to a mindless animal like Russell.

He waited and finally the soft squeal of a rusty door hinge and a dull bang rang out, a screen door opening. Methos tensed and slipped toward the house.

The building was more of a cabin, tiny and hand built. Hidden in the woods near Rainier National Park it was nicely isolated but close enough to the city for hunting. The roof was covered in moss, no real driveway was apparent just wheel ruts in grass.

Methos heard Macleod's soft challenge, a long moment and then a laugh. He hurried down toward the house as quietly as he could. A flash of steel in moonlight drew his attention. There was another immortal in the woods, Russell had a partner.

Methos raced toward the voices.

"Afraid of a real challenge?" Duncan snarled.

Russell - a dusky skinned small man all wiry muscles and energy, stared at Macleod for a moment, his face twisted into a sneer and he laughed.

"Okay if you wanna do this I'll do it." He agreed and raised a hatchet.

Movement in the woods behind Macleod alerted the Scot, he twisted and whipped around, a broadsword severed the air he'd been standing in.

Methos appeared like a silent savior and stabbed the newcomer through the throat. The big man dropped his broadsword and sank to his knees clutching at his gushing throat. Macleod whirled and faced Russell. The little man's face was twisted in rage.

The two engaged.

Methos let Macleod's ambusher writhe and bleed out. He'd wait to behead him until Macleod had taken Russell. He didn't want the assassin's quickening to interfere. He waited utterly still, eyes following the movements of the battle. It was over quickly. Macleod was an artist with the katana.

As the first tendrils of Russell's quickening oozed and rippled around Macleod Methos finished the assassin. The dual quickening lit up the woods like a spotlight, the two victors were brought to their knees by the power of it. Macleod recovered first.

He rose using his Katana for leverage. Methos was laid out on his back. The older immortal's eyes snapped open as Macleod approached. He rolled onto his side coughing and groaning. Macleod offered his hand. Methos took it and the two men leaned on each other and limped toward Methos' rental car.

"I can feel them." Methos muttered. Macleod nodded. It happened sometimes. Dual quickenings were extremely rare, sometimes it took time for them to settle, sometimes the quickenings spread between the two recipients. Methos and Macleod had taken a dual quickening before.

As they reached the car they spotted headlights on the road about a mile away from them. Panic spiked through Methos' chest. He took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm. They didn't have time to dispose of the corpses properly they'd have to run. He glanced at Macleod, Duncan nodded silently agreeing.

Methos started the car and left the headlights off. He eased away from the cabin and back down the trail they'd followed where he waited just out of sight of the road as the headlights passed. Two black SUVs. He cursed. The F.B.I. favored the big versatile vehicles, it wasn't a guarantee that Gideon's people had followed them but Methos didn't want to find out. He'd had enough of jail for quite some time.

He waited until the lights were out of sight and pulled onto the road. The SUVS had been heading toward the house, taking the road would eat up time, the immortals had ten minutes before Russell and his compatriot were discovered, assuming the vehicles were the B.A.U.

"We have to ditch the car, they'll find tracks." Methos wheezed. Macleod glanced at him in concern. Methos ignored him and sped up. He felt like his chest was tightening. He was on the verge of panic. In all his life he'd never been so close to such an extreme threat.

They drove in silence for half an hour. Methos spotted moonlight on water. He pulled over and took a deep breath.

"I'll check the depth." Macleod offered. Methos nodded, he was having trouble letting go of the steering wheel. He was terrified.

Macleod opened his door, leaving it open he approached the water. He stripped and waded in, then as it rapidly deepened he dove to check the depth. The bottom was rocky but, assuming the current level was high thanks to the fall rains the depth would serve until summer. Macleod surfaced and returned to the shore.

"It'll work for a few months."

"By then we'll be ghosts." Methos agreed. He got out of the car and pulled two bags out of the rear. He tossed one to the still naked Macleod.

The Scot shivered and threw the bag next to his clothes. He gestured for Methos to move away from the car. Macleod hopped in, rolled down the automatic windows and put the car in gear. He floored it and let off the brakes, there was a squeal as the tires caught the surface and then it rocketed forward and into the water. Macleod's dark head broke the surface seconds later, like some kind of bizarre seal. He made it back on shore, scraped as much water as he could from his goose bump peppered skin and dressed. Methos watched quietly. When Macleod was ready the two picked up their bags and faded into the woods.

* * *

Gideon stared at the headless corpses.

"This cauterization is fresh." Reid said kneeling near the largest corpse.

Gideon, Reid, and Prentiss had come to the scene. The rest of the team were coordinating with Garcia and the field office to lock down egress and locate Macleod and Ben. Gideon suspected it wouldn't do any good.

"How did they do it?" Prentiss asked leaning over Reid to study the stump.

"I'm not sure, it doesn't take a huge amount of heat but it looks like this is one universal burn, it would take a large flame or surface to achieve it." Reid mused. Prentiss frowned.

"What about an electrical burn?"

"It's possible."

"This is the kill site?" Gideon asked.

"Yeah there are definite signs of a struggle, looks like someone attacked the smaller man near the house and then the bigger man fought with someone else closer to the woods. The bigger man bled out more." Reid murmured.

"Yeah but there's still not enough blood to account for two full grown men."

"Right but the cauterization would have staunched the blood flow."

"Severing a head creates a huge amount of blood spray instantly, there should be more blood." Emily insisted.

"She's right." Reid conceded. Gideon nodded.

"Unless the blade was red hot when these heads were removed they must have been cauterized seconds afterwards, except that big man clearly bled for a while." Reid mused.

"Why the difference? Why let the bigger man bleed first?" Gideon muttered.

* * *

They made good time, both men were used to wilderness travel. Methos let Macleod take lead. They didn't speak much, there wasn't any point. They had to make a single phone call to tell Joe the job was complete and then they had to disappear.

"Are you upset?" Methos asked Macleod. Macleod paused and glanced over his shoulder at the older man.

"I don't know. They had to be stopped."

"Yeah but now we have to run and the way technology and security are going we may never be able to return." Methos pointed out.

"It had to be done." Macleod said again and started walking.

Methos smiled. Macleod was pissed off, who wouldn't be? But he wouldn't show it because while it was a shit situation it was the only decision they could've made. They _had_ to stop Rusell. Besides it was largely thanks to Macleod that the cleaners in the Watchers had been disbanded. By now those that were left had retired or been scattered. So it had to be them that did it.

"There should be a track to a logging town coming up. We can call from there." Macleod said half an hour later. Methos nodded not caring if Macleod could see the gesture in the dark.

The town was little more than a street and a general store. Miraculously a pay phone sat in front of the store. Methos assumed it was due to the lousy cell reception in the mountainous area.

He placed a collect call.

"I'll accept the charges." Joe rasped.

"It's done."

"Russell?"

"And another. We're going off the grid. We'll be in touch when we can."

"Good luck I'll pass the word."

The line went dead. Methos wondered why everyone seemed to hang up on him lately.

"It's done." He said turning to Macleod. The Scot nodded and adjusted his pack.

"Look I'll go my own way from here, we're easier to remember together."

Macleod nodded and extended his hand Methos gripped it. Macleod nodded -yet again - and pulled Methos into an embrace. He released the older man.

"Keep your head Methos." He said softly. Methos smiled and Macleod was gone. Vanishing into the woods.

Methos picked up the phone and dialed a memorized number.

"Yeah."

"They're dead Gideon, listen to me I can't explain it all to you now but you have to stop hunting. Let this one go."

"Ben-"

"You know that's not my name. I'll contact you soon."

He hung up. Heart in his mouth. He started walking along the main road out of town. He had to draw attention away from Macleod as long as he could and he couldn't be sure that the Watchers wouldn't do something stupid to dissuade the B.A.U and the F.B.I. from further investigation. Like send a hit team after them. He doubted they had the resources but he'd never thought Horton would start a war either.

So he prepared to get picked up by a ranger or someone similar. His sword would certainly have traces of blood from this kill or a previous. It had to be done. His sense of penance had moved him to meet Gideon, and that had led to this whole sorry affair. So he owed Mac a head start and he owed Gideon and his team some kind of explanation.

* * *

"Local sheriff just received a call about two hikers, they showed up at a general store made a call and split up. They match the descriptions that were broadcast for Pierson and Macleod." Garcia told Morgan.

"There's my golden girl." Morgan said and ended the call.

"J. J. you and Prentiss head out there with the locals see if you can get anything else out of the tipster. J. J. you may need to liaise with the locals for a search." Hotch said.

* * *

"Hi, we spoke on the phone I'm Agent Jennifer Jereau, this is Agent Prentiss."

"Nice to meet you in person Agent. The shop keeper is Ida Blink, says she saw your guys about 5 am. They made one call from the payphone in front of her shop then one went into the woods and the other started hoofing it down the road."

"Is Ms. Blink here?"

"Nope, I spoke with her over the phone she's at her shop."

"Sheriff, it's possible the second man is still hitchhiking on that road."

"It's possible Agent Jereau but not likely, that's a logging road, drivers get bored like to pick up hitchikers. It's against regs but it's not uncommon. Odds are your man hitched a ride ten minutes after he hit the road."

"We need to lock this area down. These men are suspects in nine homicides." Prentiss barked.

"Done and done but odds are he's long gone."

"The first suspect?"

"Well to be honest if he's got any woodcraft he could vanish in those woods. The weather and terrain are against him though so we might have a shot."

"J.J. I'll go talk to the shopkeeper and call Hotch we might need more help here."

"Sheriff if you could have one of your men take Agent Prentiss to speak with Ms. Blink, I think we need to start a grid search."

"No problem."

* * *

Methos waved off two trucks that honked offering a ride. He wanted to walk, needed to. His feet hurt and he was beyond exhausted. Still he kept moving.

Four hours after calling Joe a cruiser whipped past him, lights on. He paused in his trudge and watched it out of sight then started laughing. He heard the distant squeal of tires. The car appeared on the horizon again and raced toward him.

The dark haired agent, Emily, jumped out of the front passenger seat and drew her weapon.

"F.B.I.!"

He raised his hands and put them on top of his head and knelt without being ordered. A man in a uniform got out and held a gun on Methos while Emily took his bag and coat and patted him down she froze when she felt the sword. She pulled the coat away from him revealing the sword handle.

"We should've kept you in jail." She growled and hauled him to his feet.

"I need to speak to Gideon." Methos said simply. She cuffed him and forced him into the back of the cruiser.

* * *

Gideon studied Ben through the one way glass in the interrogation room.

"How do you want to do this?" Hotch asked.

"I'll go in, talk to him first. "

Methos tugged idly at his manacles and studied the blank room. Deliberately blank, to remind him he was a cog, a thing, a noun. He smiled at it. He knew exactly what he was.

Gideon entered. He looked old, tired and pissed off. He sat and stared at Methos.

"What are you?" He asked.

Methos smiled.

"I'm just a guy Gideon. "

"You're just a guy that cuts people's heads off."

"Gideon, listen to me. I can't tell you everything. The world just isn't the black and white place it seems to be. "

"So you're Hamlet? Does that make me Horatio?"

"I don't plan on dying and you'd probably do a lousy eulogy. I'm serious Gideon."

"You and your friend slaughtered two men." Gideon snapped.

Methos closed his eyes. Let out a slow breath. Gideon was too angry to listen properly. Wait, this was Gideon, he never… he knew something.

"What do you know?" Methos asked quietly.

Gideon froze for a moment.

Methos smiled minutely.

"You knew from the day we met that there was something off about me, you had to you're a profiler. "

Gideon was silent.

"So why did you call me Gideon?" Methos demanded half rising his manacles were latched to the table preventing him from fully standing.

"Why did you call me?" Methos snarled hauling on the cuffs.

"Who is Adam Pierson?" Gideon asked.

"I am."

"Why change your name to Ben? Why the different birth dates?" Gideon demanded.

"Stupid question, think about it Gideon." He ordered. Gideon did, eyes narrowing and then widening just enough to register a revelation.

"You haven't aged a day."

"Bright boy, my turn, why did you call me?"

Gideon rose and stood behind his chair.

"Because you fit the preliminary profile." Gideon admitted.

"I took care of your problem Gideon."

"You took care of it by decapitating two men." Gideon snarled.

"You won't listen. Give me someone who will." Methos sighed. Gideon left.

"Pull up all records for Ben and Adam Pierson, get me a photo." Gideon snapped shoving past Prentiss and Morgan.

They exchanged looks. Hotch exited the observation room and followed Gideon.

"What was that about?" Prentiss asked Morgan.

* * *

"Okay, your boy is a freak." Garcia said standing in the conference room. "And I don't mean like creepy freak like the usual ones we all see, he's literally a freak of nature. Check this out." She said and hit a clicker. A picture appeared on the screen.

It was an oil painting showing a man in a Victorian suit. It was Methos.

"This painting is from the late 1890s. Now, it's probably a great something or other Pierson right? Hopefully, but here's this."

She hit the clicker again and another picture appeared, this time it was a photograph. It looked about twenty years old, the fashions were the height of 80s chic. It was him again.

"Wait, that can't be him, it looks exactly like him." Reid said.

"Right? I got the photo from a social networking site, the user listed her alma mater and one Ben Johnson as a classmate. That's Ben." Garcia said.

She hit the clicker again and Methos' mug shot popped up.

"I don't know who this guy is but you might want to check his attic for a moldy painting, or ask him what his beauty secrets are, you'd make a mint." Garcia said with a shudder.

"Oh, there's more I did a backtrace, tried to find the first record of him but everything petered out. It's like he just _is_, the birth certificates look legit but they're almost all for infants who died before they were one year old. The rest are good forgeries."

"How many identities have you found?" Gideon asked.

"Five…so far, but I think there's probably more." Garcia said nervously.

"So..what he's been around for a hundred years?" J.J. asked.

"That's impossible –" Morgan scoffed.

"Actually it's theoretically possible. The only reason we age and die is that our bodies are unable to repair damaged cells properly. Every seven years every cell in our bodies is replaced, if Ben has some kind of genetic quirk that allows his body to perfectly repair and replace damage cells then he could, theoretically, be that old." Reid said.

"What about injury? Illness?" Morgan asked.

Reid shrugged.

"What do we do?" Prentiss asked.

The team looked at her.

"Well we apparently have an _immortal _man in custody, he's likely killed at least one or more people, with a _sword _while managing to cauterize the decapitated wounds almost instantly. So, what do we do? Up channel it? Charge him?"

A thoughtful silence filled the room.

"We don't have enough information." Hotch said.

"I'll talk to him." Gideon said.

"Will you?" Morgan challenged. Gideon didn't react to Morgan's tone.

"Yes." He said quietly and left the conference room.

* * *

Methos was dozing, head on the table when Gideon entered. He looked up from the table, grunted and leaned back in his chair, as far as his secured shackles and manacles would allow.

"Have a seat Jason." He said with a sigh.

"Garcia did some digging."

"Have I been a bad man?" Methos sneered. He was impatient, tired and hungry. He wanted to be cruel and petty but stiffled the urge.

"Apparently you've been several." Gideon said coldly. Methos chuckled and shrugged.

"I get around."

"What are you?"

"I'm just a guy Gideon."

"If what Garcia has found is true you're a very old man."

"Don't you want to ask me about the murders?"

"Were they murders?" Gideon asked softly.

Methos stared at Gideon, flat eyed, letting him see the man underneath the façade. Gideon swallowed and leaned in, put his hands on the table close to Methos' manacled wrists.

"I see you." He whispered.


	4. Cover Up

"What are you going to say Gideon? You've capture an unsub who happens to be immune to aging? You'll be laughed out of your job. Think of all the killers that will go free and keep killing without your team." Methos hissed.

Gideon didn't react kept staring into Methos' eyes.

"Gideon, believe me, the men committing those killings are dead. They were damned by your laws and mine. They're finished."

"You're not." Gideon said quietly.

Methos sighed and lowered his head to the table top.

"Tell me how you cauterized the wounds." Gideon asked.

"I didn't do it." Methos muttered, it was true, he _hadn't_ cauterized the wounds, the quickenings had. His voice muffled by the table.

"I can't make a decision about what to do with you until I know what kind of threat you are." Gideon hissed.

"And I can't tell you any more than you already know." Methos sighed still face down.

"Why?"

"Because. Think about it Gideon, you're a smart guy, why would I do what you're accusing me of?" Methos said sitting up.

"The killings were attracting attention. Federal attention." Gideon mused aloud. He stood up. Someone knocked on the door. Gideon opened it.

"Reid, what is it?"

"If he's not alone, if there are more like him they're probably hiding. If the unsubs and victims were like him then too much federal attention could risk exposing them." Reid said quietly. He was certain Gideon would realize that but he was too emotionally involved to see clearly.

Gideon nodded. He moved to Methos and released his manacles from the table. He got him to his feet and moved him out to the conference room. The rest of the team slowly followed.

"You're protecting people?" Gideon asked his tone was annoyed and frustrated but not damning.

Methos just stared at him.

"Answer the question Mr. Pierson." Hotch said evenly. He was skewering Methos with his gaze.

"You know what you know, you're profilers figure out the rest." Methos snapped, he shifted slightly, his manacles and shackles rattling off key with the movement.

"You're protecting your people, you're afraid that if the government finds out about you –"

"They'll exploit, imprison or exterminate you." Gideon said interrupting Reid.

Methos deadpanned them. He tried to fold his arms, was stymied by the manacles.

"Fine, tell us about the killings. We can't make a decision unless we know why those people died." Morgan said carefully.

Methos flexed his jaw. There it was. He stood up chains clattering.

"If I do that…" he cleared his throat, "If I tell you anymore and anyone else ever finds out about it, I'm dead. Do you understand?"

The room was silent for a long moment.

"We understand." Hotch said. Methos still hesitated.

"Mr. Pierson –"

"I'm immortal. You figured that out. There aren't very many of us. We don't know why we are what we are, we're all orphans. Foundlings usually. We can't die, revive from most fatal injuries. But, like the best things in life there's a catch." He was looking Hotchner directly in the eyes during his little speech. He spat the words out like bullets or poison, stabbing at the B.A.U. team, resenting the situation engineered by his cunning and their tenacity.

Without pausing for breath he continued, "The Game." He paused then.

The room was utterly silent and rapt with attention.

"Y'see in the end there can be only one of us, to further this little agenda we are taught and trained to hunt each other. An immortal defeats his opponent by decapitating him and absorbing his power through a quickening, it acts like electricity, burns anyone who isn't the recipient, even then it hurts like hell."

"That's what cauterized the wounds –" Reid said caught in the ah-ha of the moment rather than the gravity. He looked chagrined and fell silent.

"So we hunt each other. Most of us don't like it, hate it, but some…well, some like it, live for it. They get off on it. Your killers were like that, those idiots were working as a team, which is forbidden, and they were making their kills public, also forbidden."

"You had to stop them." Gideon sneered. Methos eyes snapped to Gideon's.

"Yes, _I _had to stop them. What would you do Gideon? Arrest them? Jail them? They won't grow old and die in jail like you, they'll get crazier, hungrier and when they get out it will be through a wall of dead people, mortals like you. So yes, they had to be stopped. And the only way to stop an immortal on a rampage, an immortal with a mental condition or one that's just plain evil is to cut the fucker's head off." Methos hissed venomously. Gideon didn't move.

"There, get it? Lives depend on me walking out of here, shoot me and say I was escaping, label me the unsub so your record stays all neat and shiny but if I don't walk out of here someone is going to assume that you know all this and you're going to act on it, they won't sit and wait for you to come for them."

Gideon walked up to Methos, Methos tensed, ready for a verbal fight or worse. Instead Gideon unlocked his manacles and then half crouched and released his shackles.

Methos stared at the agents ready for anything.

"Agent Reid, please escort to Ben the parking garage." Hotchner said softly.

"Hotch-" Morgan started.

"We can't keep him. If we imprison him he'll suicide or they'll execute him. If we do keep him all hell will break lose." JJ interrupted.

"Think about it Morgan, if the wrong people realize there are immortal people living in society all it will take is one corrupt government imprisoning and brainwashing them to suddenly have an army of super soldiers, or worse." Prentiss said softly.

"We aren't voting on this, this is my decision. It is my belief that Ben and Mr. Macleod have nothing further to contribute to this investigation. They are to be released and no longer pursued in regards to this case." Hotchner ordered.

The team was silent.

"Morgan please speak with Garcia, she needs to erase any information she's gathered and hide her tracks." Gideon said into the silence.

"The last ten minutes never happened, we can never talk about this again, it didn't happen. Clear?" Hotchner said sternly. Slowly a ripple of agreement traveled the room. Reid stood to escort Methos but Gideon waved him off.

"I'll take him." Gideon said sounding tired. Methos nodded. He felt like he should thank them but somehow words didn't seem the right medium. J.J. met them at the elevator with Methos' coat, bag, and sword. She and Gideon watched as Methos inspected and then sheathed it.

Gideon was silent until they reached the parking garage.

"Wait." Gideon said as Methos turned to walk away. Methos faced him calmly.

"How old are you?"

"You don't want to know Jason."

"You look like you're in your early twenties, but you handle yourself with more maturity, probably always have, men your age weren't considered mature adults recently. You're what, six hundred?"

Methos laughed.

"Gideon, don't."

"Your kind, you hunt each other? So in order to survive you've had to kill?" It was rhetorical.

"Yes, I've killed Gideon, obviously. Why?"

"That's what I sensed, when we first met underneath all that charm and modesty, a killer."

"We're all killers Gideon, in the right circumstance anyone can and _will _kill. You've killed to defend yourself and innocent people. So do I."

"It's more than that."

"Leave it alone Gideon. I have to leave, if I don't disappear my …friends will think you've done something unwise."

"You're going to vanish?"

"For awhile. It's what I do."

"You owe me some answers."

"No, I really don't, I'll tell you what Gideon. I'll be back, give me a couple years and I'll be back." Methos promised. He offered Gideon his hand. Gideon hesitated then shook it.

Methos started walking. Gideon watched him out of sight.

* * *

"Did that just happen?" Reid asked rhetorically as Hotchner returned to his office and Gideon took the elevator down. He was sitting at his desk in the bullpen.

"Did what just happen?" Prentiss asked sourly. She was holding a stack of files and looking toward Hotch's office.

Reid frowned.

"You mean that thing that didn't just happen but kinda felt like the X-files?" Morgan asked returning from Garcia's office. Prentiss gave him a look.


	5. New Deal

**A/N I've thought about pulling these last few chapters out and making them another standalone story but I kinda like 'em here. **

_

* * *

Four Years Later _

Methos stared at the Quantico F.B.I. Campus. It was raining, not hard enough to blind but unpleasantly. He wasn't sure why he was there. He'd told Gideon he'd be back one day. But what did he really owe him? He hadn't been able to understand the gentle man's anger all those years ago. Methos _was _a killer yes, but he wasn't indiscriminate he didn't hunt mortals or innocent immortals, didn't hunt at all really. _Anymore_. Something whispered at him. He ground his teeth. He'd had his fill of evil and slaughter. Was that what Gideon had picked up on? The lingering remnants of the Horseman? He shook his head scattering rain drops.

He pulled out his cell and dialed a number.

"I'm looking for S.S.A. Jason Gideon, my name is Ben Pierson." He said and waited.

"I'm sorry Sir, Agent Gideon is no longer with the F.B.I."

"Oh."

"Would you like to speak to his replacement?"

"No…no thank you. Wait, is Agen Aaron Hotchner still with the BAU?" Methos said and hung up. He was stymied. It had never occurred to him that Gideon would choose to leave the B.A.U. had he been fired?

"Yes he is sir, would you like to be transferred?"

"Yes, my name is Ben Pierson."

"Just a moment sir." As he waited on hold the rain grew worse.

"Is this who I think it is?" Hotchner's voice hadn't changed over the years. Still hard, crisp, efficient.

"Where's Jason?" Methos asked sharply.

"Off the grid."

"What happened?"

"An unsub targeted him and killed a close friend of his, Gideon resigned, walked away from the BAU."

Methos thought about that.

"Fine."

"Don't hang up." Hotch said quickly.

"Why?" Methos snapped.

"I need to talk to you in person."

Methos sighed.

"Where?"

"There's a bar, near the B.A.U."

"Email me the details." Methos said and gave him an anonymous email address.

He hung up and pulled his coat closer. He was going without a sword most of the time these days. It hadn't been a problem. Particularly in a town like this with huge amounts of security and crime jammed together he was better off with just his hands. Still, there were times when he just wanted that familiar weight.

It took him half an hour to walk to the bar. He was soaked through when he arrived. He didn't see dour Hotchner anywhere so he ordered a double whiskey and sat in the warmest corner he could find. An hour later Hotchner arrived. He scanned the room efficiently while removing his coat and spotted Methos. The immortal beckoned him over.

"What's so important?" Methos groused.

Hotchner studied Methos closely as he sat.

"What's your real name?"

"Ben."

"Why are you trying to lie to me?" Hotch asked annoyed.

"Because it amuses me. Why do you want my name?"

"I want to know who I'm talking to."

Methos stared at him and shrugged.

"Methos."

"Aaron, nice to meet you." Aaron said.

"What do you want_ Aaron_?" Methos sniped.

"We've got another case like Seattle."

Methos froze, he sighed, polished off his drink and shook his head.

"How many?"

"Three. Same signature cauterization."

"I can make some calls." Methos offered with a sigh.

"No, we're handling this."

"Hotchner –"

"I understand your position. I want you to help us." Hotchner explained.

"You want me to help out my people?"

"No, I want you to help me catch a murderer."

"I told you before-"

"That's how your people are, I remember, not good enough."

"Hotchner this is insane-"

"Only two of the victims have the cauterization."

Methos froze again. That only meant one thing.

"Oh Christ." He breathed.

The rogue was hunting mortals, or pre-immortals.

"I've brought a pass in the name of Ben Pierson, I'd like you to meet my team at 8 am."

Methos nodded numbly. The waitress arrived with another drink for Methos. Methos downed his. Let the fire curl in his belly. He breathed out a slow steady breath.

"I need to know where this is taking place."

Aaaron looked hard at him, studying, calculating.

"I have my own resources."

"North Texas. Wichita Falls."

"Huh, that's a shit hole." Methos mused.

Hotchner slid the pass across the table.

"8 am."

Methos nodded and got up to leave.

"Methos-"

"Never call me that in public Hotchner." Methos hissed.

"Ben. We have a new member on our team. He doesn't know anything about you. That will have to change."

"You replaced Gideon?"

"David Rossi."

"Huh. Right. Well, cross that when we come to it." Methos sighed and left.

* * *

Methos stared at the elevator. He felt a strong sense of de ja vu. After being picked up in the woods southwest of Seattle he'd been taken to the B.A.U. for interrogation. Now, here he was again. He shook his head and walked to the elevator.

Hotchner met him.

"So what's my name?" Methos asked quietly.

"Ben Pierson."

"If Rossi has read up on the cases you've worked since he's been gone he'll recognize my name."

"We're counting on it."

Methos took Hotchner's arm. The agent stiffened.

"What are you planning?"

"You're being brought in as a consultant, you have previous experience with the case four years ago."

"Have you told him anything else?"

"No, I don't care how you tell him or how much you tell him but you have to at least tell him what we're up against and why you're really here. His safety and your secrecy need that."

Methos nodded. It made sense, if Rossi didn't know enough he might do a press conference or try to go after the unsub solo or otherwise endanger himself or other immortals.

* * *

Methos was dressed casually but neatly. Ankle boots, tailored black slacks, a comfortable light blue sweater.

The team were set up in the conference room. As Methos entered all but agent Rossi glanced at him ever so slightly. He stifled the urge to smack them, Rossi couldn't miss that. No bluff was going to work for long.

"Mr. Pierson is an outside consultant, many of you are familiar with his assistance in the similar case four years ago."

"Mr. Pierson, David Rossi." Rossi said standing and offering his hand. Methos took it and shook briefly.

"We're ready now J.J." Hotchner said taking a seat.

"We have four confirmed victims. The first two display the signature cauterization of the previous killings four years ago. The second two do not." She brought up a crime scene photo of a man dressed in dark clothing with no head.

"The first victim, John Doe 1. He was in extremely good physical shape, mid-forties, found off of the local highway in an open field. John Doe 2 also very fit early thirties also found in a field outside the city near the highway." She hit the clicker and a new photo appeared.

"The latest two victims were found together, in a field near the main airfield. Both are in their early twenties, one male, one female local M. E. is still working on an I.D. Neither body shows the characteristic cauterization-"

"Sorry to interrupt JJ, but, if the latest two bodies don't have the burns how do we know it's the same killer?" Rossi asked.

"The lab reports say that the same instrument was likely used in both, a long slightly curved instrument that is extremely sharp. Additionally the similarities in dump sites indicates that the same unsub is likely responsible." JJ answered.

Methos could feel Rossi watching him. The man's gaze felt like insects on his skin.

"I've read the files on the last Seattle killings. The reports read according to protocol but there's no meat. What really happened in Seattle?" Rossi asked staring directly at Methos. Methos smiled thinly and got to his feet.

He walked to the door to the conference room and locked it. Drew the shade on the window and sat down again.

"If I may Agent Jereau?" Methos asked. She swallowed nervously and sat. He noted that she looked a hair older but it had somehow enhanced her beauty.

"Agent Rossi, I'm going to share some information with you that can get me killed. Your colleagues are privy to it due to the events four years ago. I'm not going to make you swear an oath or anything ridiculous. Just know this, if the wrong people find out that you are aware of this information then my life and probably yours are forfeit."

Rossi looked incredulous. The rest of the team were silent.

"Dave, he's telling the truth." Hotchner said softly. Rossi met Morgan's eyes, Garcia's, Emily's, J.J's, Reid's and finally Hotchner's again. They looked sincere and nervous.

Rossi looked back at Methos his expression less annoyed.

"The first two victims, the unsub and myself share a certain, ability. We're immortal, we don't age past a certain event and we can't be killed easily. Our kind, we…it's called The Game. We don't know who started it, how or why or if the Prize is even real but, we're taught that in the end there can only be one of us. That the sole survivor will inherit the power of all those before, the Prize. A passage of power happens every time one immortal kills another, we call it a quickening, it appears to as and behaves like an electrical charge. It sears flesh, burns wood, and hurts like a motherfucker. We kill one another via decapitation. Now, what this unsub is doing is extraordinarily dangerous. He's risking public exposure. If he's caught and jailed he won't age which will expose us and result in a shit storm, or he will suicide and escape from the morgue. Worst case scenario he simply walks out leaving a wall of bodies behind him. This person is dangerous beyond imagining, he has the potential to start a true race war or worse. The only way to deal with a rogue immortal is execution. We can't be jailed or rehabilitated, there is no way to keep one of us contained until we die of age, doesn't happen. "

"You're serious?" Rossi scoffed half laughing. He looked annoyed and then angry as the team didn't deny Methos' claim. He stood and faced Methos.

"You're a mental pat-"

Moving with every ounce of speed and skill he had Methos snatched Rossi's weapon and shot himself through the hand. Instantly Rossi backed away and the other agents drew their weapons. Garcia wisely hid behind Morgan, Morgan's left forearm pressed her back behind him.

Methos thumbed the safety and tossed the weapon back to Rossi. Rossi caught it automatically. Methos raised his left hand, the team could see through the hole in his palm. As they watched blue-white light crawled over the injury leaving whole flesh and a smear of blood to mark the injury.

"As I was saying Agent Rossi, we can't be killed easily." Methos growled.

"That's so gross." Garcia hissed behind Morgan's back.

"Rossi, we found several identities for him, one dating back to the 1890s." Hotchner said quietly.

"What are you?" Rossi demanded.

"I don't know. None of us do. We're orphans, foundlings." Methos said levelly.

Rossi looked pale. He sat down carefully.

"I have potentially useful information. My contacts tell me there are four active immortals in that area of Texas. Two are too old for this unless certain circumstances have occurred, and fit the descriptions of the original two victims." He was thinking of a dark quickening but Joe had said there was no indication of that. Usually the ones that snapped were new immortals, the others had held onto their sanity and their heads long enough to have weathered a few storms. "Which leaves two others. One has been out of the area for the last seven weeks which likely rules him out for now. The fourth is a woman."

There were some murmurs at that.

"I agree, the likelihood that a woman is committing these killings is extremely unlikely but it is possible –"

"Pardon me Mr. Pierson, if that's your name, you said the first two victims were like you? What about the second two?"

Methos sighed, he'd been hoping to finish his briefing before anyone turned back to that nugget.

"Correct. Only the killing of an immortal by an immortal results in those sorts of burns. The other two victims were not immortal or, if they were a mortal killed them."

"They were innocent?" Hotchner asked.

"Yes, most likely, they may have been pre-immortal or mortal whatever the case they didn't deserve this." Methos sighed.

"Your species slaughters each other, what do you care about an innocent human being?" Rossi demanded.

Methos laughed at him.

"Do you know how long I've been asking myself that? Do you have any idea how much it hurts to watch _every_ person you've ever known, loved, hated, or even smiled at wither and die? Every child I've held in my arms, every man or woman I've kissed has died. You're all the walking dead to me and I still give a shit. I wish I didn't. So yes, _my _'species' kill each other, but not all of us do and most of us hate it. Tell you what Rossi why don't you sit down and think of a way to talk the hunters out of it, when you do lemme know and maybe we can end it, okay?" Methos snarled.

Rossi looked shamed.

"This planet, the people on it, are the only thing I've got Rossi so don't you dare challenge my interest. You can't fathom the evil and the wonder I've seen in my lifetime so don't try to judge me or profile me Rossi, you aren't up to it." Methos said somewhat calmer.

"How old are you?" Hotchner asked. Someone had to.

"Fuck, me and my mouth. Older than you can deal with okay?" Methos said and scrubbed at his face with one hand. He had lost his temper and now they were going to go for the kill and rip every secret from him they could. He fought back a sense of panic.

"Can we get back to the point?" J.J. asked. All eyes ticked to her. Methos could have kissed her.

"The local P.D. has turned the case over to the local field office due to the original case's jurisdiction. We'll be meeting with the lead field agent first thing tomorrow morning."

"I hope you brought a bag Mr. Pierson we'll be leaving immediately." Rossi growled. Methos rolled his shoulders and grunted at Rossi.

Prentiss was staring at Methos. Every time Methos tried to catch her eye she'd look at the file in her hands but she had been on the same page for an hour. He cleared his throat.

"Agent Prentiss do you have a question?" He asked delicately. She flushed.

"I'm sorry I… You're really not going to tell us how old you are?"

He smiled.

"Honestly? Fine, alright everyone listening? Great. Here it is, I'm not sure how old I am. There." He said with a ghost of a smile.

"What's your best guess?" Reid asked. Methos smiled thinly.

"You won't believe me." He said and picked up his copy of the case file. No one left the room, they simply waited, a whole ten seconds passed before he started giggling. He lowered the file and met their eyes.

"Fine, I'm like, five thousand years old. Ish." He picked up the file again. This time it was Rossi who laughed.

Rossi had decided that Ben might be a lunatic, he might also be right. He was going to wait and see.

"Seriously?" Morgan asked.

Methos kept reading. "I said you wouldn't believe me. Don't you have work to do?"

"You said the victims might be pre-immortals." Reid ventured. Methos sighed and pursed his lips. He'd hoped that slip would go unnoticed. He closed the file and set it on the table.

"A pre-immortal is an immortal that hasn't died yet. If a pre-immortal suffers a violent death their immortality will kick in. If they don't they'll age and die like anyone else." Methos said quietly.

"Why would an immortal hunt pre-immortals?" Morgan asked carefully.

"Because, if he or she keeps them from becoming immortal that's one less immortal to kill or run from." Methos sighed.

* * *

The flight was too short in Methos' opinion, he read each file thoroughly and carefully then set them aside and let himself think. There were two reasons to kill a mortal, he or she had witnessed a quickening or worse had taped one, or the immortal just wanted to. What was going on in Texas?

He woke with a start as the plane landed. The team got their gear and were ready to disembark by the time they hit the gate. Methos hadn't brought anything but cash. He was beat and by the clock there was a whole six hours until they met at the station. He decided against sleep. He'd done it often enough. An hour or so of sleep would be worse than none.

He booked a hotel room anyway. He would meet the team in the lobby in the morning. He stared at the files and thought. He had an eidetic memory but still he stared.

It was unlikely a solo woman was doing it. Most female immortals were ridiculously good at combat or hid behind a stronger protective male. Fact was in hand to hand combat a male was usually at a major advantage, when it came to something like swordplay, where the upper body was key, the disparity usually grew. So it probably wasn't Esmee. Which left the immortal who'd been out of town for seven weeks or a drifter.

He concentrated on the drifter, the out-of-towner's watcher had been on his ass the whole time he'd been in Georgia, apparently he was a scrappy type and didn't have much of a life expectancy. There were usually a handful of immortals on the road at any given time, a few were permanent nomads. Because of that it was difficult to keep a watcher on them.

He sucked his teeth and ran a hand over his face. So it was a drifter. He picked up the phone.

"Joe? I know it's a bad time. It's about the rogue, I need to know if there are any drifters in the area."

"I'll have to roust some people, this'll take some time. Have you slept yet?"

"I'm fine Mother, gimme a call when you get anything."

"Your cell still good?"

"Yeah."

He hung up and turned back to the file.


	6. Sunny Texas

He overslept. Joe called him at 0730. He was slumped over the files. Cursing he answered while leaving his room.

"Hey Joe, thanks for the call."

"Woke you up huh?"

"What've you got?" Methos grunted ignoring the amusement in his friend's voice while stabbing at the elevator buttons.

"No drifters but I might have a ghost for you."

A ghost was an immortal that been written off as a kill. Sometimes they just went off grid.

"Really?" Methos asked intrigued.

"Yeah a kid named Jackson. He's about sixty, looks twenty-two. He's not normally aggressive but he's the right age range. One of the downed Immortal's Watchers thinks she spotted him. I'll send his file to your phone."

"Thanks Joe."

The elevator doors opened and he hopped in.

Prentiss was waiting in the lobby.

"Oversleep?" She asked. He grunted at her.

"We can catch a cab the other took the rentals." Prentiss said laughing at his disheveled appearance.

"I'll have the desk call one, you need a brush and a minute in front of a mirror." She tutted. He let her drag him into the women's restroom. She wet her fingers and rant them through his misbehaving hair and then tugged most of the wrinkles out of his sweater.

"Good thing you're not a six o clock shadow kind of guy Ben or we'd be in trouble." She said inspecting her work, satisfied they walked back to the lobby and out front to meet the cab.

"So what should I call you?" She asked.

He smiled.

"Ben is fine, Ben or Adam are what I usually go by."

"Yeah I noticed that, Adam the first man? Nice joke."

"I like it." He agreed. The cab arrived. He decided he liked Prentiss. She seemed the most even keeled and okay with him. She wasn't bad on the eyes either, and smart.

"Why do you do this?" He asked.

She was quiet for a moment.

"Someone needs to and I seem to be pretty good at it." She said dismissively. He thought about that. She had an ivy league education and political parents.

"If you say so." He said with a smile.

"What?"

"You people didn't invent profiling y'know. Look, you are smart, well connected, beautiful, _and _determined. So, _why _do you do this?"

She laughed and groaned.

"Caught. Okay I do it because it fascinates me and I've spent my entire career in the F.B.I. wanting to do it. Besides, I _am _pretty good at it."

"I expect you are." He admitted.

The briefing was largely over by the time they arrived. Hotchner paired Prentiss with Methos and sent them to check out the latest site, where the two innocents had been dumped. Methos didn't pay attention to the rest of the team. He was silent while Prentiss drove them out to the site. He was watching the scenery or rather, the lack thereof. They took an exit and drove through a heavy industrial area before pulling over. Methos was out first.

The bodies had been found four days before. While Prentiss and the agent talked Methos walked the field. He looked at it with the eyes of a killer, looked for a place to hide two corpses, he noted the terrain and the footing thought about how he would approach fighting for his life there. He walked the field for half an hour before deciding the killer had been in a hurry, lazy, or stupid and the actual killing had absolutely not occured there. He rejoined Prentiss at the SUV.

"So?" She asked.

"The unsub was sloppy. There are better places to hide two corpses, easier to get to as well. My guess is he brought a vehicle as close as possible, dumped the bodies and dug a trench just deep enough to barely do the job. They certainly weren't killed here, the ground is too uneven no immortal with any sense would choose to challenge here it's also far too exposed."

"Good, want to take a look at the trench?"

"Nope. Where to now?"

"Garcia found a possible lead."

"Good, oh can you give me her line? I need her to do a search on a ghost." He used the term automatically.

"A ghost?" She asked digging for her cell phone.

"Mmm, sometimes one of us is assumed dead, when he or she shows up again we call 'em a ghost."

"Who's we?" She asked.

"Stop digging." He said firmly.

"I might stop asking but I won't stop digging."

"I expect no less." He admitted with a half smile as he pulled out his cell.

She handed him her phone and got into the SUV. He programmed Garcia's number into his phone and handed Prentiss hers.

"Empress Penelope speak or be banished."

"Errr Garcia?"

"Eeep! Mr. Pierson sir?"

"Relax I don't bite I need you to run a check for me. I'm looking for a man named Jackson, first or last he looks about twenty-two but he's closer to sixty. I need to know if anyone in this area has any reports or sightings give me your email and I'll send you a photo."

"Can do but just so you know Jackson is like the third or fourth most common surname in the country so this might take a minute 'cause Wichita Falls might be tiny but the Air Force Training Base is sorta huge."

"Understood." Methos said and hung up.

"Jackson?" Prentiss asked.

"Yep."

"He's the ghost?"

"Yep."

"And you have a photo?"

"Yep."

"So when were you going to give it to us?"

"Not until I had to. Look Prentiss if this guy is innocent and sees his face on the news he's going to A. want to know how someone got his photo and B. other immortals will probably recognize him and realize he's not dead. In that case if he has family or anyone else in his life that person is now in danger as well."

"What do you mean?" She asked carefully.

"You're not that naive. My life is literally kill or be killed Prentiss, think about that. If someone wants to draw me into a fight, or just kill me out right the easiest way to do that is to threaten the people I love. Some of us try to retire from the game, have families and lives of our own but the game always comes back, some son of a bitch _always _shows up and takes it all away. So if this kid isn't our unsub I'm not going to point him out to anyone."

"Kid? He's like sixty right?"

"You're all children Emily." He sighed.

She grunted.

"Wrong, if you thought we were all children you wouldn't have given me that long look in the bathroom, _or _told me I was beautiful." she snorted at him.

He smirked at her.

* * *

"He's disorganized, we believe the second two victims were killed because they interrupted him or saw something. He has a very specific method of killing which we believe involves a sword. "

J.J. was briefing the locals on the newest intel. Methos ignored it and went over the notes and information the others had accrued during their morning. He was sitting at an out of the way table in a break room.

"Ben, Garcia said you had her running a suspect?" Hotchner asked.

"He's a possible-"

"Prentiss told me why you kept it back. Don't do that again. We have channels and we have discretion, we understand our mutual situation and we can be trusted, you need to share as much information as possible." Hotchner said, his tone was the same he would use with one of the team that had made a mistake but it still rankled Methos. Methos checked his temper.

"Agent Hotchner please understand that every time I open my mouth I risk everything. I'm sure Agent Prentiss clearly conveyed the reasons I held back that information. But just to be clear I'd like to tell you a story about a friend of mine. You've met him, Duncan Macleod."

As he spoke Methos stood and closed in on Hotchner. Hotchner stood his ground.

"He was out of the Game for ten years. Ten years he was free, met a wonderful woman, fell in love. They even took in a pre-immortal kid a happy little family. Unfortunately the day the boy showed up Duncan Re-entered the game. Slan the Cat was a twisted son of a bitch, a sexual sadist, he liked to play with his victim's family and friends before the kill. Duncan took him down. Over the next four years or so years he killed dozens of immortals in defense of himself and his family. All for nothing. The woman he loved was ultimately kidnapped by a lunatic immortal, again Duncan won only on the way back to the car, that woman and the boy he'd taken in were both murdered. So I'm not sorry for keeping that information back, I would do almost anything to keep another immortal out of the game safe and at peace." He didn't add that the more immortals that were out of the game the better for him.

"I understand."

"Really? I doubt that."

Something flickered over Hotchner's face.

"Last year my ex-wife was murdered by George Foyet. He went after her because I pissed him off. He murdered her while my son was in the house. I understand why you chose to protect the information Mr. Pierson." Hotchner growled.

"Good." Methos agreed and backed off satisfied his point was made. True, Tessa and Richie had been attacked by a random junkie mugger and Richie was an immortal but that wasn't the point. He'd read about Hotchner's family, knew it would piss the man off to have a similar tragedy thrown in his face, but he had to make sure the point was made.

* * *

His head hurt. He poured a fourth cup of coffee and sat down again. A furious Prentiss arrived seconds later.

"What the _hell_ did you say to Hotch?" she demanded. He stared at her. Then rose slowly.

"Back off Prentiss, I had to be very clear with him." Methos said firmly.

"You have no idea what he's been through –" Prentiss said sternly.

"And none of you know what it's like to be _us_, let alone what it's like to be me so save it. For every one of your tragedies I've experienced a hundred more. Back off."

She swallowed and literally took a step back.

"Prentiss all of you keep seeing me as an equal or an outsider, a civilian. I'm none of those things. I have one purpose here, put an end to this son of a bitch before it's too late. That's it."

"Just watch who you step on to get that Ben, because we are just as alive and just as relevant as you are." She said her voice soft and cold.

She stormed back to their temporary office. He blinked at her departure. She had a point. He thought about apologizing. Then dismissed it, it was done, actions would speak louder. He'd have to throw them a bone now. Earn back the good will. He scrubbed his face and sighed. He hated dealing with politics and emotions.

Morgan burst into the room.

"Local P.D. arrested a man with a sword."

"Shit, anything else?"

"All we know is that he's got a sword, come on." Methos didn't argue. He followed Morgan immediately.

They drove to the station with lights and sirens. As they pulled up Methos tensed for the foreign quickening and felt nothing. He frowned but followed Morgan out and into the station.

"It's not him." He said softly. Derek frowned at him.

The suspect was an obviously delusional man known to the local P.D. Morgan gave Methos the keys to the SUV.

"Get back in case anything comes up, work your mojo I've gotta take care of the red tape here."

* * *

His phone rang as he was getting into the vehicle.

"Yeah."

"It is I oh Ancient One, Garcia."

"What've you got for me?"

"Almost zilch. Your boy, if he is the unsub, is very very good at staying off the grid. I did manage to get a picture of him from a traffic camera just outside the local Air Force Base. I'm forwarding it to your cell."

"You do work magic."

"I know." She said cheerfully.

* * *

Methos sat at his table and looked over the files again. His headache amped up a notch. He was thinking in circles. He took a deep breath and got to his feet. He hadn't anticipated this hunt taking this much effort. If the immortal were truly rogue he'd be killing again. He thought about Jackson.

He hurried into the makeshift office. Prentiss, J.J. and Reid were going over geographic profiles, files, making phonecalls and generally working.

"What if Jackson isn't the unsub, what if he's the next target?" Methos asked.

"We have to get him off the street." J.J. said.

"Right I can help with that, Garcia spotted him on first avenue an hour ago on foot." Methos said he held up his cell phone with the photo displayed.

"Let's go." J.J. said.

"Wait, uh one thing." Methos said, six eyes stared at him.

"If I get too close to him he's going to bolt or try to fight."

"Why?" Prentiss asked tensely.

He glanced around to insure the local P.D. were out of earshot then dropped the tone of his voice.

"Our quickenings interact, it's a warning system, helps us find one another. If I get close enough to his he'll spot me."

"That could be an asset." Reid said.

"Well if he's been 'dead' as you put it he may want to talk to you, he may be tired of isolation and hiding what he is. He could be seeking companionship. You said he doesn't have much history and he's only sixty years old, he's young and he might want an authority figure around."

Methos grimaced. The kid had a point.

"Okay but if I ask you to stand down or back off please just do it. I don't want to spook him into a challenge."

"Challenge?"

"Part of the game?" Reid asked.

"Yeah if he challenges me and I back out of it or run he might take it as an insult and try to hunt me later."

"You people are twisted." Prentiss grunted.

"Come on we have to get to him before the unsub." Methos sighed.

* * *

Jackson was busking at a bus stop near the base gates. Methos allowed him to feel his quickening as they parked. Jacksons' head shot up and he started packing up his guitar and case. Methos approached slowly, hands out and at his sides, obviously unarmed. Jackson froze.

"My name is Ben I mean you no harm, there's a hunter in the area. I want to take you somewhere safe –"

"Fuck you dude, why would you bother?" Jackson snapped.

"Because he's mine and I don't want anyone else getting in the way."

Jackson considered that. Many immortals had decades or longer grudges against each other, it wasn't hard for Jackson to believe Methos' words.

"Alright, where you wanna go?"

"You aren't going to believe me." Methos said offering Jackson his hand. Jackson looked like a cross between a beach bum and a frightened scarecrow.

* * *

Prentiss and the others were quiet. Reid kept staring at Jackson.

"How the hell do you know cops?" Jackson asked for the third time.

"I get around. Have you come across anyone else in town?"

"I've felt someone but I haven't seen him. He's quick, I'll get a feel of him and then he's gone, I'm talkin' seconds." Methos frowned.

"Right, well we'll keep him off you for now."

"Seriously dude, cops?"

"Jackson?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking."

* * *

"Uh Ben I have a question for you." Reid said.

Jackson was settled into the makeshift office. He was strumming his guitar to the annoyance of anyone within earshot.

"Yeah what's that?" He asked.

"If we get the unsub how do you plan to…subdue him?" Reid tried to think of a nice way to say behead and failed.

"You think 'cause I'm not carrying a sword I won't have a way to do the deed?"

"Uh yeah." Reid said glancing around.

"Relax Reid, I've got it covered."

He didn't. He hadn't a clue, it honestly hadn't occurred to him. Still you didn't need a sword to do it.

"In your experience will he stick around or go to new ground if he can't find another kill?" Hotchner asked Methos.

"It's hard to say, depends on whether his goal is territory or killing. Look why don't I replace doofus. I can rent a room near First Avenue or the base and make myself conspicuous."

"What would you normally do?" Reid asked.

"Normally I'd never be in this shit hole."

J.J. gave him a look.

"Fine, normally I stay with friends, off the map no hotel receipts or anything else to track me."

"Jackson, what do you do when you come to a new town?" J.J. asked.

"Find a shelter and a good corner to busk, keep my head down."

"You might want to do that, if you make your presence too well known he might get spooked or think you're too much of a challenge." Prentiss suggested.

"Jackson give me your sword."

Reid raised an eyebrow.

"He won't buy my act unless I've got some kind of sword."

"No way man!"

"Jackson, you're in a police station surrounded by federal agents, give me your damn sword. You'll get it back."

"I better, it's a gift from my teacher."

"They usually are." Methos sighed.

* * *

It was surprisingly cold out. He always thought of Texas as hot but it was late September and anything but. He grunted and shifted his weight on the concrete. He had Jackson's guitar case slung over his shoulder. He idly strummed the guitar while scanning nearby pedestrians and shoppers.

He doubted this would work. Best case scenario the rogue spotted him and assumed Methos had killed Jackson and took the kid's guitar. Worst he'd think Methos was too much of a challenge and bail unless he was an organized rogue like Russell and his unknown partner. Methos doubted that, the dump site was too sloppy.

So he strummed, shivered and waited.

As the sun started to set and the wind picked up – turning an unpleasant dry chill into a clothes slicing misery he felt him.

"He's nearby." He whispered hoping the mic J.J. had pinned to his collar was picking him up.

He started scanning the crowd more intently as the feeling intensified. He spotted him at last.

He – and it was a male, was huge. Over six foot, broad chested, darkly tanned and lean. He was dressed in a sheepskin lined corduroy jacket, jeans, cowboy boots and a beat up cowboy hat. Methos flashed a feral grin.

"I'm Cody Meyer." He said as he stepped within range.

"Name's Ben. You wanna tangle?"

"If I do?"

"I'm game but I'm not looking for trouble."

"Tell you what, you meet me tonight and we'll see what kind of trouble we can find."

Methos studied him. He had cause for confidence he was strong, had successfully killed at least four times and more importantly he liked it.

"You look familiar." Methos ventured.

"Can't say we've ever met." Cody said with a grin.

"Right, well where do you have in mind?"

"Old hangars at the end of the air field. They aren't patrolled and they're beyond the boundaries of the base since they've scaled back."

"Alright, how's midnight strike you?"

"Just fine, see you in a few Ben."

Methos nodded and waited until Cody's quickening faded completely before moving.

"Thank you for staying back. Now we have a shot." He muttered into his mic.

* * *

Methos was sitting in the back of the local P.D.'s surveillance van, JJ was carefully removing his mic.

"That was hugely reckless, we could have taken him –"

"And what Hotchner? Locked him up? Interviewed him for your database?"

"Gotten him off the street."

"Look, I… y'know what? Just come with me tonight. All of you. Maybe then you'll understand."


	7. Clean Up

Cody was waiting when Methos arrived. The big cowboy was twirling his sword and pacing the length of the hangar. Methos had demanded the BAU come with him in the heat of the moment. Happily Hotchner had forbidden them, if someone reported the fight it would be bad enough that Methos was associated with the team but there would be almost no way to explain the team's presence. Prentiss and Rossi had been frustrated by that but held back. Rossi had spent most of the case going through files with Reid and trying to get his head around the world Ben represented.

"So tell me boy, didja kill the kid and take his guitar?" Cody asked pausing in his pacing. He stared at Methos and leered.

Methos studied him for a few seconds. Cody was still just as large and just as cruel as he had been earlier that day. He wore the same clothes as well.

"Why did you kill the young couple?" Methos asked drawing his borrowed blade.

"Because I could." Cody laughed, he sounded surprised at the question.

"I thought so." Methos said and attacked. Cody was faster than he looked and every bit as strong.

They locked blades and Cody threw Methos back the effort twisted the bigg immortal off balance. Cody caught himself neatly, although it forced him to overextend and leave his right upper back exposed. Methos took the opportunity presented and slashed at Cody severing the muscles and weakening the arm. He drew back and managed to block a retaliatory blow.

Cody roared in pain and annoyance.

"Little fuck." Cody snarled.

"Not my fault you're an overfed ox." Methos laughed and whipped around Cody, he hamstringed Cody's left leg and earned a slash across his abdomen. Just above his belly button, it was millimeters shy of disemboweling him. He gasped and pressed a hand to the wound. He could feel his quickening trying to heal it. He dodged another slash from Cody and pressed his attack.

The fight stretched on. Methos was bleeding from a half dozen shallow slashes. Cody was worse off but he wouldn't go down. They were both gasping and heaving like bellows. Methos was beginning to wish one of the B.A.U. agents would pop up and shoot Cody like the animal he was. He was actually beginning to hope that Morgan or Prentiss, hell, even Rossi had disobeyed Hotch and followed him.

Cody made another lunge at Methos and this time Methos managed to slash at Cody's good leg, bringing the big man to his knees. Cody snarled in rage and fear then lashed out and grabbed Methos' ankle.

"You won't have my head!" He hissed and pulled Methos off balance. Methos lost his footing and fell, the floor was slick with blood. He slid toward Cody, the big man rose on his knees and stabbed down at Methos like an angry toddler with a fork. Methos squirmed and the sword entered his shoulder rather than his chest. He screamed in pain as Cody laughed in triumph.

The big immortal threw his head back and released the handle of the sword. Methos clenched his jaw and forced his upper body off the floor in the most painful situp he'd ever managed, Cody's sword was embedded in the concrete floor, in order to rise Methos had to force his flesh against the blade, expanding the wound. It was worth it.

As he rose he twisted and raised his sword, as Cody brought his head level to glare at Methos the ancient snikked his head off, neatly as pruning a rose. Methos slumped to the ground, still nailed to the floor and let out a sob of relief. He hadn't come so close to getting killed in decades.

Tears of relief and fear blinded him a moment before the quickening hit. Again he screamed in pain, a note of triumph rang out as well. He'd lived.

* * *

"It's almost two am. We have to go out there." Prentiss insisted.

"We need a legitimate reason." Rossi argued.

"He's right Emily. If we just randomly show up at the airfield the locals are going to want to know why." Hotchner said.

"Fine, I'll go. I can say it was a hunch." Emily said. Hotchner stared at her for a moment and then nodded.

"Morgan please go with her." Hotch sighed.

Morgan and Rossi were out the door in seconds.

* * *

Methos lay still for a few minutes once the quickening passed. When he felt ready he tried to get up. And fell back screaming. He panted and cursed himself. He was not going to lie there like a butterfly in a box until someone stumbled across him or he died a dozen times.

He balled his fists, gritted his teeth and tried again.

This time he passed out.

* * *

"His cell is dead." Prentiss sighed.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing Emily, he could have turned it off so it wouldn't distract him."

"This was stupid. We shouldn't have let him go by himself."

"We had to you heard him." Morgan snapped, he was driving.

"We wouldn't have let him go if he'd been one of us."

"He's not one of us, he's not even human Prentiss." Morgan sighed.

Prentiss didn't reply.

"If we had followed him what would we do? If the fight went badly and we interfered his people may have taken that as a sign of aggression." Rossi said quietly.

* * *

He opened his eyes and stared at the curved metal roof of the hangar. It was boring, so he looked around. He could see stars outside. The main doors of the hangar were wide open. He wondered about that. Why leave it like that? Why not close the main doors and leave the personnel access door open? He laughed, the sound was wet and bubbly. He must be bleeding into his lungs. He laughed again. He had to get up.

"Come on, time to get up, come on." He muttered. He propped himself up on one elbow on his left side, it was his right shoulder that was pinned. He peered down at the blade. It didn't look too bad really. He twitched his right shoulder experimentally. Pain rocketed through his chest and right arm. He gasped and closed his eyes.

He was going to die, and keep dying unless he got off the ground. It had to be soon or he'd bleed to death. He'd have to bend the blade, force it through his shoulder or resign himself to death. He tested the blade's strength and hissed as it shifted in his flesh. It was too stiff. If he'd been skewered by the rapier then he might have had a shot. He let out a pained whimper.

He was going to have to drag his body away from the sword. He let out another laugh and swallowed hard. He put his palms against the cold slightly smoothed concrete floor and without giving himself a chance to think about it twisted and pushed himself away from the blade. He felt the blade slice through the soft tissue of his shoulder and then it was free. He rolled a few feet away and let out a low gasping shriek.

Methos laid still for a minute or two. Gathering his breath. He could feel the worst of his injuries healing. He was beyond exhausted, he had to get up, get going, get rid of the body. He was less than ten miles from the heart of the local military base, the feds would be on him soon and the locals were still out looking for a serial killer. He had shit to do damnit.

But his body had had enough and it was going to take some time before he could get up.

* * *

"This is the last hangar if he isn't here –"

"Then he probably ran." Prentiss agreed, interrupting Morgan.

They parked and Prentiss rushed out, she held her weapon ready in a two hand grip. Morgan backed her up with Rossi taking the rear. It was the right hangar.

Blood was pooled and smeared across a good fifty feet of the hangar. It looked like a slaughter house. Cody's headless corpse was sprawled next to a sword stabbed into the concrete. They didn't see Methos.

"Jesus christ." Rossi breathed, Morgan kept his sidearm up and moved his flashlight over the carnage.

"Ben!" Prentiss called. A low groan drifted from the far end of the hangar. She holstered her weapon and hurried forward. Morgan kept his weapon in hand and followed cautiously. Rossi kept staring at Cody, the stump of a neck the vaguest hint of seared flesh mingling with the overwhelming reek of blood.

Prentiss' flashlight played over Methos and at first she thought he was dead. His blood looked neon against his paper white skin. Then he groaned and opened his eyes. His eyes were wild and half focused.

"Shh hey Ben, Ben it's okay we're here." Prentiss said softly. Morgan holstered his weapon and pulled out his cell.

"We got him. He's been badly hurt but he's alive."

Prentiss knelt next to Methos and helped him sit up. He hissed as she gripped his upper arm. Rossi walked toward them, slow, deliberate steps.

"Where are you hurt?" She asked intently. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I'll be fine, do you have any water?" He rasped. She looked at him incredulously and then at Morgan. Morgan grunted and walked back to the SUV, they usually had a small cache of emergency supplies, flares, etc. He dug around for water and returned. He played his flashlight over the carnage while Methos chugged it. The immortal handed the empty bottle to Prentiss and took her hand to get to his feet. Rossi simply watched without commenting.

Methos felt wobbly but could stand at least. He examined the shoulder wound and was pleased to see that it had largely healed although it was tender. Morgan turned the flashlight onto Methos and studied him for a moment.

"He nailed you to the floor?" Morgan asked.

Prentiss was still bracing Methos.

"Yeah, he was a swell guy." He said and coughed. He straightened a bit.

"Right. You need a hand with this?" Morgan asked. Methos shook his head.

"We can't get involved any further, if we leave any DNA or other evidence and it comes back to us we won't have any way to explain it." Rossi said firmly.

"He's right, besides, I've got it covered." Methos said walking forward. He was exhausted but his injuries had healed. He'd be weak for a day or so but he was okay for now. He slowly picked up Jackson's rapier and handed it to Morgan.

"Could you get this back to Jackson? He'll need it." He coughed again.

Morgan took it, he stared at Methos for a moment, the immortal was shaking, covered in blood and still favoring his injured shoulder.

"Look, man, you're a mess-"

"This is what I do Agent Morgan. It's ugly as hell and it's beyond painful. He had to die for all our sake's and now I have to clean up the mess I made. Don't you have a profile to give?" Methos said sternly. He didn't want Morgan's pity.

"Fine, Prentiss, you good?" Morgan asked.

She sighed and nodded. Her dark clothing would hide Methos' blood for the time being. Rossi had already gone back to the SUV.

Methos watched them go and if he still believed in any god he would have prayed to never see them again. He listened until the sound of the SUV engine faded away. Satisfied he slowly walked out to his own vehicle and gathered his supplies. He had several tarps, bleach and other cleaning supplies. What the bleach didn't cleanup it would contaminate. No DNA reading would be valid if anyone even found enough blood to test. He had two hours to load the body and clean the kill area. He got to work.

* * *

Hotchner met them at the local P.D. station.

"Status?"

"He came out on top." Morgan said succinctly. Hotchner glanced at Prentiss.

"Barely, he got nailed to the floor. It looked like a slaughter house."

"Clean up?"

"Said he could handle it. He's been doing it long enough I guess he's right." Morgan shrugged.

"He'll be fine he's been doing this for years." Rossi said. Hotch gave him a quizzical glance but nodded.

"Gather the team, we're going back to D.C. the locals aren't happy with our results." Hotchner ordered.

They nodded Morgan found Jackson and told him where to find his sword. Morgan had left it in the parking lot behind a dumpster. Jackson left eagerly.

* * *

"Are we okay with this?" Prentiss asked.

They were on the plane heading back to Virginia.

"He accomplished his goal and didn't want our help." Hotchner said simply.

"Easy for you to say, you didn't see him."

"It was pretty bad Hotch, he was definitely beat up." Morgan conceded.

"Look, he's gone and it's done. The murders in Texas have stopped, I for one pray we never see him again or more killings. I don't need to know about his world ours is twisted enough." Rossi sighed.

"It stands to reason if he's had to deal with even one immortal a year that he knows how much he can handle, if he insisted Morgan and Prentiss leave him, he's probably fine." Reid pointed out.

"I don't know guys, I mean, you're right but it doesn't feel right to leave him like that." J.J. sighed. Prentiss flashed her a grateful look.

"We could go back for him but we'd have to explain why –"

"It's done." Hotchner interrupted. They fell silent.

* * *

Methos finished his work before dawn. He called Joe for a Watcher crematory.

"You sound like shit man."

"Yeah I know, it was kind of close. I need a crematory."

"I thought you might. I've got one in town for you."

"Really?" Methos asked and coughed.

"Seriously man, you sound awful."

"Do you have the address?" Methos asked with a sigh.

"Yeah." Joe gave it to him, Methos wrote it on the back of his hand.

"Adam, man, promise me you're coming back to Seacouver? No more playing with your federal friends."

"Yeah, yeah I promise Joe, next stop."

"Great, now when you get here will you pay your tab?"

Methos hung up laughing.

* * *

They arrested him during a traffic stop. Well, they tried to at least.

He was pulled over for having a broken tail light. They ran a check and found out his rental car was a day overdue.

Methos cursed his stupidity. He could have called the rental company and had them extend the contract. The officer asked him to get out of the car. He complied. If the cop searched at all he'd find Cody, sans head, in the trunk. He was wrapped in tarps with luggage on top of him but any interested search would find him.

"Yeah I meant to call the rental company. I ended up staying at a friend's place last night, had too much to drink." Methos said with a grin. He hoped he'd cleaned up all the visible blood on his hands and face. He was wearing clean clothes but still.

"Sure, how long have you been in town Mr. Pierson?"

"Uhh two days I think."

"Plan on staying long?" The officer was going over the rest of Methos' paperwork and his driver's license.

"Uhh not really, I'm just making a stop and then heading for the airport."

"This seacouver address, is that still good for you?"

The address was Joe's bar.

"Yeah, I rent a room from a friend. He owns a bar on the ground floor. He's an older guy and he's got some mobility issues so I help him out some."

"That's good of you. Well, tell you what Mr. Pierson I'm going to run your information you sit tight for a minute and we'll see if we can sort this out and get you on your way."

The cop returned to his car. Methos thought about running, thought about decking the cop, taking his uniform and hightailing it. But he was smarter than that. Exhaustion and nerves were chewing at him. He sat back in his seat and waited.

"Okay Mr. Pierson, looks like your paperwork is good. Unfortunately the rental car agency is pretty upset that you've still got the car. I'm afraid I'm gonna have to take you in until we clear this up."

Methos thought fast. He was fucked.

"That's unfortunate officer, do you have to cuff me?" Methos asked opening his door.

"Procedure is procedure-"

Methos nailed him with the car door. He was stunned it worked. He took the officer's weapon and looked around to see if anyone had seen anything. It was clear, he was lucky. The officer was out cold. He felt like an asshole for attacking a cop but he couldn't afford to be arrested, not like this, not after being associated with the B.A.U. in the minds of the local cops.

He eased the officer into his car, adjusted his cap and replaced his weapon. He used napkins from the glove box to wipe blood from his face and Band-Aids to patch the small cut on his cheek. He reached over and access the officer's onboard computer. He deleted all references to the traffic stop and tugged the officer's hat low over his eyes.

Methos smiled and got out of the car. He returned to his rental and carefully drove to the crematory. The Watcher waiting for him just verified his tattoo and took the body. Methos was mildly surprised he didn't comment on the worn appearance of the tattoo. Some of the newer Watchers didn't realize who he was and some of the older ones resented him and made him explain himself when the opportunity arose. Apparently this one didn't care. Methos didn't mind. He had to ditch the car and get out of the state ASAP.

He listened to a news station while he drove. He wanted to get out of the county before losing the car. Fifteen feet over the county line he pulled off the road and waited for traffic to clear. Once there were no witness he gunned the engine and launched the car off the embankment and down out of sight. The impact jarred him and started a nose bleed. He grunted and climbed out of the car. He dug in the trunk and scattered the contents. He pulled out an ill-fitting stained jacket and picked up a small bag. He opened the bag and pulled out a harness, it looked like a dual shoulder holster for a handgun but the portion that sat over the spine was nine inches long and had a handle sticking out the bottom. He stripped off his shirt and slipped the harness on. He dressed quickly and threw the jacket on.

Once he realized Cody was the rogue he'd called in a favor. The luggage and his new guise had been delivered to him at the rental car location.

He adjusted the jacket and slung the bag over his shoulder. He fished a compact mirror out of his pocket and knelt. He scooped up a handful of dry dusty dirt and carefully smeared his hands and face, being careful to cover his throat and neck. Methos inspected his work and then flung the mirror as far as he could.

He climbed the embankment and started walking. Methos smiled and started to sing.

**A/N direct sequel is Conversastion, M rated due to a sexually graphic scene about halfway in. Follow on to Conversation is A Kind of Silence, Conversation isn't necessary for AKOS to make sense so if you'd like to avoid the M scene or a huge running conversation between Methos and Gideon, carry on :) Thank you for reading.  
**


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